Porsche v Bikes

A Boxster went past me yesterday. Driver's jaw clenched, both hands strangling the wheel, looking like he was heading into a divorce hearing rather than out for a Sunday drive. And it hit me: I've never once photographed a happy Porsche driver.

Six hours a day roadside with a camera gives you a proper look at human psychology, and this pattern never fails.

They sit there behind the wheel, jaw set, looking like they're en route to a tax audit. You're in a £90k German sports car on a sunny afternoon. Why do you look like you've swallowed a lemon?

Then you work it out: they're probably sweating over £900 a month in PCP payments, stressing about stone chips on the paintwork, terrified of scuffing an alloy on a pothole. It's a depreciating box of metal with a heated seat, and they're miserable in it.

Now look at the bikers.

Doesn't matter what comes round the bend. A 16-year-old on a buzzing Vespa, a commuter on a Honda Super Cub, someone on a £25k Panigale, or a rumble-heavy cruiser: every single person under that helmet is grinning like an idiot. You can see it in their eyes through the visor.

A £500 commuter bike gives you the exact same hit of pure, unfiltered freedom as a flagship superbike. Outside, breathing fresh air, engine underneath you, no idea what a spreadsheet is for the next hour.

So if you pass a bloke in a German sports car looking like the weight of the world's on his shoulders, give him a wave. He probably needs it.

Bike that does it for you: what is it? Let's see the full range, 50cc to superbike.